College Applications
by Technical Technicalities
Summary: Courtney is waiting for her college letter to be sent back, while all Chris wants is a sandwich! Rated T for language


A/N: For I'll Cover Angel And Collins. (Very short, sorry :/ (Sorry it's late too D:)) Drabble-like, because that's what I wrote :P

**WARNING: I DON'T OWN TOTAL DRAMA AND SOME FOUL-ISH LANGUAGE**

* * *

It was a nice day today. Sunlight streamed in through the windows when Courtney woke up and went about her daily routine. Today, she was rather pensive, as she was supposed to be getting a letter indicating whether she got into Harvard or not. After taking a shower, Courtney was in the middle of getting dressed when Chris, her boyfriend, woke up.

"Did you make me a sandwich?" He asked immediately. Courtney buttoned up her pants and rolled her eyes.

"No. Go make your own damn sandwich." She said, her eyes slit. Chris groaned dramatically, and literally rolled out of bed, landing with a _thump _on the floor.

"But whyyy?" Chris moaned, rather childishly. Courtney gave him an eye-roll yet again.

"I have an important matter today, and I want to be right there when it shows up in the mailbox!" Courtney exclaimed. Chris smirked and waggled an eyebrow, suggesting an "If you know what I mean" look. Courtney left the room and went downstairs. To Chris, it was only a "cottage' but to Courtney, it was like a mansion, complete with a pool, a hot tub, and a bar in the back, along with some patches of flowers that Courtney liked to tend to. She walked into the kitchen, still apprehensive over whether she would get into her dream college or not. She shakily grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it up with water from the refrigerator. It was then that Chris came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Courtney's waist.

"You still gonna make me a sandwich?" He asked, in a voice as sexy as he could attempt to make it. Courtney narrowed her eyes once again.

"No!" She said and stormed out. Chris whistled.

"GIrls and their stereotypes." Christ said to himself as he grabbed some bread and a slice of cheese out of the fridge.

* * *

Courtney paced the living room, watching the main window while playing with her fingers. She wited for signs of the mailman, but he hadn't arrived yet. Quite strange, considering that he was SUPPOSED to come at 5 A.M, but, as long as he came bearing that letter, Courtney would be delighted/sad. After about ten minutes of pacing, she came to a stop and sat on the couch, absentmindedly rubbing small circles on her feet. Just then, Chris came into the room and handed the former CIT a sandwich.

"Thanks." Courtney said, a spacey look in her eyes as she chewed on the bread in a zombie-like fashion. Chris rolled his eyes and put an arm around her shoulders.

"You gotta learn how to _relax_ babe!" Chris replied, putting his feet up on the couch. He turned on an episode of _Law & Order_ and leaned back into the plushy cushions. Courtney watched it with him, even though her mind was on an entirely different topic. "Everyone knows that bitch is guilty!" Chris exclaimed as a girl tried to plead her case on the television.

* * *

An engine revved up outside, and Courtney whipped her head to the window, where it was revealed that the mailman had arrived. Instantly, Courtney got up and zoomed towards the door, probably surpassing the Roadrunner in terms of speed. She whipped open the door and ran to the mailbox, where the guy put a magazine, some bills, and...her letter. She grabbed it, and ran inside again. She took her former seat on the couch and nervously opened it.

_Dear Courtney Anwalt_,

_Congratulations! Your application has been accepted. And, as-_

Courtney threw the letter in the air and let out a squeal similar to Katie and Sadie's. She twirled around and many sighs of relief were heard as Chris paused the TV. "WHat happened?"

"I GOT IN I GOT IN I GOT IN!" Courtney screamed in delight and hugged her letter to her chest. She then hugged Chris. "I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!"

Courtney bolted up the stairs in happiness, while Chris frowned. "Great, now who'll I pester to make me sandwiches?"

* * *

A/N: Again, so sorry :(


End file.
